Personal Space
by The BatThing
Summary: Alfred is gone , Dick is a slob, Tim is dead, Damian is placing bets and Jason has bad timing ... all of which equal a pissed off Bruce. REBIRTH timeline. Weezer 'Feels Like Summer'


*Rebirth timeline

*(Dick is a slob – Alfred + Tim's death) x Jason's awkward timing = pissed off Bruce + X

Solve for 'X'

* * *

 **Personal** **Space**

By: Cas

* * *

"Father?"

Bruce turned his head towards the base of the stairs where his thirteen year old was standing, hair a mess and pajamas rumpled. "Damian." He allowed. "What's wrong?"

Damian padded into the light and squinted. "Did you just return from patrol?"

A nod.

"Your half trained gypsy is being purposefully ignorant of personal space. I needed a retreat." Damian explained as he took a seat. He looked tired.

That was the light that lit the fuse. Bruce had already washed the pile of dishes that had been waiting for him when he arrived home. He had already picked up the discarded shoes and socks that were strewn across the floor upon entrance and the wet towel haphazardly tossed on the coffee table. Living with Dick Grayson was like living with a pet that constantly needed cleaning up after.

Bruce stood up and muttered to Damian to " _just stay put_ " and climbed the stairs. He opened the door to Dick's room and turned on the light. The room was a mess of clothes, discarded food, trash and video gaming equipment. The bed was completely torn up, as if it hadn't been made in a month which was impossible since Dick hadn't even been home 24 hours. There was an iPad poking out between the sheets playing some television show loudly.

Swallowing his desire to crush the Appel software, Bruce left the room and headed towards Damian's. The door was already open and there was the sound Dick's fucking phone filtering into the air, apparently playing another show whilst he slept.

He frowned as he snapped on the light and found Dick sleeping with his head at the foot of the bed. It was no wonder Damian was pissed, Dick was a notoriously active sleeper. Bruce still remembered how much he dreaded Dick's nightmares as a child because that meant a whole night subjugated to being woken every five minutes as the boy unconsciously repositioned. "Dick!" Bruce snapped.

Nothing. Dick was one of the deeper sleepers in the family and Bruce blamed himself for that trait. Dick had been raised with enough love and trust and general adoration that the other three- wait, two boys clearly had lacked in their childhood. Normally Bruce was halfway proud of this but right now he was just pissed.

Bruce made his way to the bed and gave the Romani a firm shake. "Wake **up**."

Slowly blue eyes opened and stared up at him. There was a yawn followed by a cat like stretch that irritated the hell out of Bruce for no reason.

"Stay in your own bed." A pause. "I shouldn't have to tell you that."

The twenty-five-year old appeared confused as his hand searched for his phone. "I just-"

"How is your bedroom such a mess? If you're going to be staying here than you need to be more mindful of us. I came home to a mess of cereal and dishes. Not to mention you left the milk out." Bruce didn't know why he was so pissed off at Dick, but he continued to seethe. "Also, not everyone enjoys personal contact as much as you. Please ask before assuming an invitation."

Sudden hurt appeared on the young man's face as color crept into his cheeks and the top of his ears. He now had the phone in hand and turned off the video that had been playing. "I got lonely." He admitted.

Bruce stared at the 5'10" figure in disbelief. Dick fucking lived alone. He knew perfectly well how to deal with fucking loneliness. "Just go sleep in your own bed," and with that he made his way back downstairs to where Damian sat. "He'll leave you alone."

Damian had an odd expression on his face.

Bruce refused to read into it.

* * *

Bruce slept in the next morning for no good reason and when he came downstairs for breakfast he found Dick and Damian sitting at the table with a box of doughnuts, a can of whipped cream, and three fancy cups of coffee. They were both actively chatting, Dick with a smile on his face and descriptive hands and Damian intently listening. At Bruce's arrival the two looked up at him.

"Is Jason home?"

Damian glanced at the third cup of coffee at the same time that Dick blurted out: "How did you know?"

"The third cup of-."

"Thirdcupofcoffee." Dick caught up.

A silence fell and Bruce took his leave into the adjoining kitchen. There he found Jason half dissolved in the fridge.

" **WE GOT YOU A COFFEE TOO, BRUCE! IN THE MICRO-HEY**!" Dick yelled from the other side of the door, followed by a chair clattering and disruptive laughter.

Jason pulled himself out of the fridge and raised an eyebrow. He had a container of sliced mango in hand. "Morning."

"Morning." Bruce returned and opened the microwave and pulled out a decently warm coffee. He was grateful, he had to admit. "Thanks for the coffee."

"Thank Damian and Dick. They paid me to bring the shit … what with no Alfred..." Jason said, good natured, and went back to join his brothers where laughter and bickering instantly welcomed him.

Bruce opted to drink his coffee in the kitchen rather than join in the happy noises in the other room. He considered his options for the day and settled on going into the office, even if for a short while. Maybe ask Selina out for the evening, afterwords the two could uniform up and patrol together. After all, he knew perfectly well Dick was in a bit of a lull so he could have Damian either patrol with him or Jason.

Hell, the way things were going lately they might all three go out together. He didn't much like that though. There were nights they would goof off or talk like a bunch of high school girls and not be anywhere near serious enough. He'd just have to continuously check in on their conversation. Jason would probably refuse but Damian and Dick would do as told.

The door swung open and Damian came in to throw away the box and three empty cups. He was scowling, no doubt having been voted the one to clean up breakfast – how Dick and Jason managed that was incredible. "Father."

"Hmm."

Damian went to the sink and furiously washed his hands.

"Tonight team up with Dick or Jason. I want you and whoever you're with linked so I can talk with you."

"Talk or listen in on?"

Bruce took a sip.

"You didn't take me last night either and the night before I was with Richard. Why?" Damian looked as though he already knew the answer.

"Thought you liked Dick?"

"Apparently not as much as you like Selina Kyle."

The door opened again and Dick stumbled in followed by a smiling Jason who seemed to be steering the the elder. The two paid no mind to Bruce and Damian's conversation, rather continued on with their own.

"-too many! That's how many. Too fucking many."

Dick swung around and placed a hand against Jason's chest. "There's nothing wrong with-."

"Creepy ass touching! You're doing it again!"

"Dick. Patrol with Damian tonight. Keep linked so I can speak with you if need be." Bruce interrupted.

Jason's smile took a mischievous turn. "Talk to or listen to?"

Damian snorted. "Precisely what I said."

Dick was glancing to each person as they spoke, but finally rested his eyes on his guardian. "… Ok."

Jason and Damian both rolled their eyes to which Dick stuck out his tongue.

* * *

Selina had been exactly what he had needed emotionally, mentally and physically. They spent the whole night together as well as the next day and then another night. What sleep they had managed had been at one of the safe houses. Bruce had added extra security but apparently that didn't stop Red Hood.

He was talking to someone, obviously linked up. "Sure, that sounds great. I'll stop by later. You and the demon spawn home yet?" The 21-year-old strolled into view and found the two adults completely compromised. All the color drained from his face and he threw up his arms to block the view, in the process dropping his recently removed helmet. "Mother fucker!" He backed up so fast that his foot snagged his ankle and sent him ass to floor. _Hard_.

Selina had a sly, teasing smile. "Need a hand?"

Jason, eyes closed, was already trying to get up, once again far too fast for his limbs to cooperate, and his foot kicked his helmet and it slid towards the intwined couple. "This is supposed to be a fucking **_safe_** house, you thoughtless fucks!"

"Jason! Open your eyes and get the hell _out!_ "

Selina's smile continued to grow with each passing second.

Jason found his feet, refusing to open his eyes and hightailed it out, leaving his helmet behind.

Bruce reached down and picked it up, momentarily moving away from Selina. Whoever Jason was talking to would probably be concerned and the last thing anyone would want would be a repeat of what just happened. He lifted the object to his ear and recognized Dick's voice on the other line. "Hood is fine."

"Ooh," Dick exclaimed. "What? Did you try to hug him or did he catch an eyeful of you and Selina? Which was-?"

"Batman out." Bruce tossed the helmet to the otherwise of the room and was instantly annoyed with the idea that he couldn't go more than 36 hours without one of the boys interfering in his life. Selina, on the other hand, just laughed and laughed, apparently thrilled at the prospect of having scarred Red Hood. Her laughter and purposely wicked fingers allowed Bruce to forget the invasion for a little while longer.

"I've got to get back out there." Bruce had finally said. "Join me?"

"Tempting, but I think I'd like my own shower and bed tonight." She paused and glanced at Jason's red helmet. "Don't forget your bird's little hat. He'll want it for all the memories."

Bruce left it behind. He returned to the cave at 4:56 am with wonderfully dirty memories to take to bed. Though as he slammed the batmobile's door those thoughts and feelings evaporated. Empty take-out boxes were scattered at the batcomputer as well as equipment haphazardly put away. Bruce ignored it and hit the showers and changed into sweats and a plain white t-shirt.

Upon entering the upstairs he shuffled into the kitchen. There was a sink full of dishes, and while they were at least soaking in water they were still obviously dirty. The countertops had been washed down and food put away but the floor was covering in grime and crumbs. From the constant crunching underfoot Bruce assumed cereal without taking a closer look.

' _How the hell_?!'

He opened the fridge and pulled out a mango, then set to the task of cutting it up and distributing it in a bowl. He added some cottage cheese and gulped the small meal down. Still hungry he threw together a sandwich and then washed up his dishes. He almost started in on Damian and Dick's before refusing, instead pouring a glass of brandy, followed by another.

He was in the process of putting the bottle away when noise behind caught his attention. Someone heavy was coming towards the kitchen so he waited until Jason Todd entered, dressed in jeans half tucked into heavy combat boots and a black t-shirt. He froze mid step and almost dropped his paper back copy of 'Don Quixote' as he had his helmet earlier that night.

"Don't run away." Bruce barked, knowing very well that's what his middle child was planning on.

Jason planted himself and seemed to be painfully trying to keep his arms neutrally at his side rather than crossed at his chest. "I'd rather not give a full report on _every_ thing I've seen tonight. Thanks."

 _'Little shit_.' Bruce gave him a hard look. "You've seen far worse than what Selina and I-."

"Oh god – ohgodohgod!" Arms were thrown up and eyes squeezed shut as if Jason were reliving the event. "Oh god, **please** don't fuckin' _talk_ about it!"

Bruce ignored him. "Did you contribute to this mess and the one downstairs?"

Slowly allowing his eyes to open Jason visibly relaxed. "Oh, that? No." A pause and a screwed up face. "Not my signature."

Bruce was aware. Jason had always been the neat freak of they boys. ' _That's saying something compared to Tim_.' As soon as he thought it he wished he hadn't. It hurt to think of Tim. He quickly deflected. "Very well … Are you hungry?"

"Uhm, yeah. Dick left some Thai in the fridge."

"Oh."

"For me," Jason quickly amended, as if worried Bruce might snatch it.

Bruce just stared.

"He and Damian didn't think you'd be back till tomorrow night or so."

"Why?"

"…I told them you seemed, ah, busy."

Bruce wondered how hard Dick and Damian had laughed at Jason. "Are the other two up?"

Jason pulled a face, no doubt at being grouped in with his brothers. While things were significantly better with him, he still had to make a show of being difficult. "Satan and Sancho?"

"Let me guess, Dick is Sancho?" Bruce said as his eyes flicked to Jason's book.

"Dick is Sancho. Following his fucking master far and wide."

Bruce left well enough alone, refusing to start shit. "You staying the night?"

"Might do." Jason removed his food and two beers and clomped over to the microwave, his boots slightly dragging and untied shoelaces flicking this way and that.

Bruce suppressed a sigh and excused himself. He should have stayed in the kitchen. He should have gone home with Selina. But no, he entered the sitting room and knew at once Dick was there. The television and lights were all on. Bruce went to the coffee table and snatched the remote. He saw Dick sound asleep on the couch, boxers and a bright pink t-shirt. When he turned off the TV there was still muffled voices coming from somewhere near the gypsy.

Upon investigation it seemed to be coming beneath the young man. Bruce roughly shoved the Romani to a sitting position and fished out the phone from between the cushions. He let Dick drop back and momentarily felt guilty when his head smacked against the arm of the couch.

"Ouch, _Jays_!" Dick whined. He ran a hand across the back of his head and startled at seeing Bruce instead of his brother. "You're home?"

Bruce entered in Dick's passcode and turned the damn thing off. He placed it on the coffee table, ignoring Dick's gaze. He grabbed a blanket from a trunk across the room and threw it on his eldest's head. Then, turning off all the lights, headed upstairs. He wasn't half way up when the tv went back on. "Richard!"

"I can't sleep without it." Came the answer.

Bruce remained calm and walked back to face the 25-year-old. "Just go to your own home."

Complete hurt washed over Dick's face. He never minded displaying his feelings when in the proximity and safety of his family.

Irritated Bruce snatched the remote yet again and shut off the television. "Before you leave clean up your mess in the cave, the kitchen, your bedroom and this room." He glanced over at the pile of dirty clothes and damp towels near Dick's feet. "All of it."

"But-."

"I'm going to bed." And with that he made his way to his room, fully aware of the crushed spirit he was leaving behind. He was in the process of brushing his teeth when he heard the door open and Dick's reflection was soon in the mirror. He spit and rinsed and then turned around with a huff. "What, Dick?"

"Why are you so angry with me?" Dick's voice was clear and honest.

"I'm not angry."

"Yes you are."

"I'm not going to argue with you."

"Of course you aren't. You're just going to push me around and make me feel like shit." Dick easily replied.

Bruce remained unmoved.

"Tim died. I wanna talk about it. I've been _wanting_ to talk about it."

Bruce felt a feral kind or rage awake. "No." He shoved past Dick, purposely knocking the smaller figure back. "I want you out."

"But I _need_ to talk about it! I can't sleep lately because-."

"I'll get you a goddamn therapist."

"Oh, thanks." Dick was rubbing his arm from here Bruce had earlier elbowed past him. His eyes were narrowed and now he was shouting. His face red as his temper shot up in a second. Dick always wore his heart on his sleeve. "Thanks a lot, Bruce! You inconsiderate _prick_!"

"What do you want? You have everything you want. I have _always_ given you everything you want. Never enough though, because you have to talk. You always have to _talk_ and _feel_ and swim in goddamn oceans of drama." Bruce was shocked at what he was saying. Not only had he lost control but he couldn't seem to stop. He wished he had gone home with Selina for the night. "You're a spoiled, selfish, thoughtless boy!"

Dick looked like he'd been slapped. He lifted a hand as if wanting touch and Bruce snatched him by the wrist, hard enough to bruise, and tossed it away.

"How many times do I have to tell you – _personal_ _space_! **Personal** space!" He meant that. No Alfred to control his family members and keep them at bay, Jason walking in on him and Selina, his own home a pig pen – right now they all took a backseat to Dick's constant need to touch and communicate. "What the hell's wrong with you? Huh? I said to leave -," Bruce shoved a hand into Dick's chest and the boy toppled over, apparently in enough shock not to try and catch himself, "so leave!"

Dick scrambled backwards as if worried Bruce might strike him, which only disgusted the billionaire. Once at a safe distance he sprang up and attempted to slow his breathing, but there was no indication of his leaving.

"Don't." Bruce snarled. "Don't you dare speak."

To his credit, Dick remained silent. He was blatantly shivering, his emotions running wild.

"I should be thankful that at least you're not _crying_. That's nothing short of a miracle." Hurtful, hateful, angry words – anything to get rid of Dick Grayson and his blue eyes. Anything to avoid thinking about Tim. "Now get out."

Dick gave his head a shake.

Reaching out, Bruce made to grab him, but Dick danced easily away. "I'm not doing this." He made to leave, but before he made it to the door arms were slipping around behind him in the form of a hug. Bruce pushed back the urge to throw the his attacker head first into the wall. Instead he pried the offending arms off. "Let. Go. Now." His voice shook from sheer rage.

"Please?"

Bruce turned around and glared down at the face looking up at him. He was unmoved. Unmoved by the plea, unmoved by the hug. Unmoved till he met those fucking blue eyes. He felt something flicker in his chest and thought momentarily of how Medusa snared her prey.

"Bruce?"

"I'm tired, Dick." He deadpanned.

"Me too, that's the _point_." Dick was on his tip toes now, as if trying to get eye level, but it was nothing doing.

Bruce walked past him and half sat – half fell onto the fully made bed. He slouched and shook his head. "You always need to talk." It was a begrudged observation, though much kinder than his earlier accusations.

"Talking helps."

"Talking helps _you_." The billionaire snapped, but then sighed. He would very much like to refuse. Dick wasn't a child anymore, he shouldn't rely on comfort from Bruce, but there were moments he still did. "Fine. Fine, Dick. Talk."

Dick mistook this as an invitation and sprang gracefully to perch on the bed beside his mentor. As soon as he settled he leaned a bit into Bruce. The billionaire carefully pushed him away with a growl and Dick blushed. "Right, space," he said and started to unload. His words ran into each other, one after another at first, but the more he said the slower they became. His thoughts were hard to follow as he went into stories about Tim and then to the boy's death, the hurt, and then more stories.

Being the contact whore he was, Dick had gravitated back until his shoulder was digging into Bruce and it was starting to hurt. At least he seemed to be holding off the water works, though when things teetered too close his voice would break he would fall quiet to collect himself. Bruce took these opportunities to dislodge the bony muscular shoulder and rub small awkward circles on the boys back.

Dick was talking about how they used to blindfold themselves and try to balance on moving trains when there was a knock at the door.

"Come in." Dick invited.

Bruce glared at him.

"Damian n' I are going to pick up some breakfast." Jason was poking his head in and looking between the two and than looking away as if he walked in on something strange. "What you want?"

Looking at the clock, Bruce sighed at the bright red 7:14. "Coffee for me. Lots of coffee."

"Me too.

"NO!" Bruce looked at Jason. "No. He's going to bed here shortly. No fucking coffee."

"You probably should refrain from it too if you're dropping the f-word." Jason quipped and closed the door quietly as he left. "Ok, mother fucker coffee and a doughnut," he said to Damian and the sound of someone trying not to laugh was heard as they walked away.

It hadn't been that funny.

"Do you really not want to talk?" Dick crawled to the other side of the bed to lie down. Once there he kicked up his feet, unconsciously resting them against Bruce.

"I really don't. But I'm still listening."

"Does it hurt to listen?"

"Only if I let it." It was a surprisingly honest answer. "Do want to keep talking?"

"Just a little more."

"Ok." God, Bruce was exhausted. He sat through another thirty minutes of talking till the only noises left were the fan in the corner and Dick's heavy, even breathing. Bruce waited another fifteen minutes before getting up and jerking the covers out from under Dick and tossing them back over him. Dick woke momentarily from the movement but Bruce hummed at him and shook his head. "Sleep. You're fine. You're safe."

"Well, _duh_." Dick repositioned and closed his eyes again.

Bruce took a moment to register the response and found it completely ungrateful.

Dick moved again so his back was to the billionaire.

Walking into the bathroom, Bruce locked the door, and showered for a second time that night. By the time he had redressed Dick was already fast asleep with all the covers tangled and two pillows on the floor. He shut off the lights and closed the door, happy Dick was asleep but slightly peeved he was in his bed.

Bruce made his way down the hall to a nearby guest room and collapsed into the bed. As soon as he shut his eyes he was out.

Downstairs money was being exchanged. Damian scowling as he handed Jason a crisp pile of cash. "Father is nothing more than a push over."

"You wanted them to talk so why the hell complain? You should be glad it happened sooner then you bet." Jason smiled down at his money.

"I don't see why we had to wager money." Damian sniffed, purposefully arrogant. He gave Jason a pointed look. "It doesn't really register to me as a loss. I rather find it more of a charity."

Jason smiled at him and pocketed his winnings, returning to take a big bite out of his half eaten pear. They were both lounging on the couch, watching the tv, happy that Bruce hadn't come down to claim his coffee. "Yeah, well, thanks for contributing clean money towards next months rent. I almost feel honest."

Damian gave a -Ttt- and nibbled on his doughnut.

 **END**

1\. Sorry I suck at grammar, especially commas, or at least I think – clearly I can't tell. Maybe I'm fucking awesome at comma placement!

2\. It's kinda cool to write again. It's especially fun to write Jason.

3\. I suck at writing loving Bruce. Also, my Bruce seems to talk way too much which is totally incorrect. He should be silently brooding buuut I suck at that too.

Thanks!

-CAS-


End file.
